"But I implore you, my brother Archie," continued she, taking his hand, "do not alter your intention of settling in Canada. Buy property in our neighborhood, so that we can see you continually. And if, in the ordinary course of nature (for you are eight years older than I), I should have the unhappiness to lose you, be sure that you would be mourned as bitterly by your sister Blanche as if she had been your wife. And now it is getting late, Archie, and we must return to the house," she added, pressing his hand affectionately between both of hers. "You will never be so cruel toward me and toward yourself," cried Archie, "as to persist in this refusal! Yes, toward yourself, Blanche, for the love of a heart like yours does not die out like a common passion; it resists time and all vicissitudes. Jules will plead my cause on his return, and his sister will not refuse him his first request. Oh, tell me that I may hope!" "Never, Archie, never," said Blanche. "The women of my family, as well as the men, have never failed in their duty--have never shrunk from any sacrifice, however painful. Two of my aunts, while yet very young, said one day to my father: 'You have no more than enough, D'Haberville, to maintain the dignity of the house. Our dowry would make a considerable breach in your means. To-morrow we shall enter a convent, where all is prepared to receive us.' Prayers, threats, the fury of my father--all proved vain; they entered the convent, where they have not wearied of good deeds to this day. As for me, Archie, I have other duties to perform--duties very dear to me. I must sweeten life as far as possible for my parents, must help them to forget their misfortunes, must care for them in their old age, and must close their eyes at the last. My brother Jules will marry; I will nurse his children, and share alike his good and evil fortune." Lochiel and Blanche walked toward the house in silence. The last rays of the setting sun, mirrored in the swelling tide, lent a new charm to the enchanting scene; but to their eyes the loveliness of nature seemed to have suddenly faded out. The next day, toward evening, a favorable wind arose. The vessel which had brought Lochiel weighed anchor at once, and M. D'Haberville instructed José to convey his young friend to Quebec. During the journey there was no lack of conversation between the two travelers; their subjects were inexhaustible. Toward five o'clock in the morning, however, as they were passing Beaumont, Lochiel said to José: "I am as sleepy as a marmot. We sat up late yesterday, and I was so feverish that I got no sleep for the rest of the night. Do sing me a song to keep me awake." He knew the hoarseness and vigor of his companion's voice, and he put great faith in it as an anti-soporific.